


Monaxiá

by FreeTheSoul



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Gen, set vaguely around lv79 msq
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 03:07:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21292604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreeTheSoul/pseuds/FreeTheSoul
Summary: Hades indulges in the company of an old friend.
Relationships: Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch & Hythlodaeus
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Monaxiá

**Author's Note:**

> first xiv work, shb got me by the balls

As Hythlodaeus stares out into the cool gold glint of the Bureau of the Architect, he yawns.

The Bureau is quiet, these days - it had been during the time of the true calamity, but with Amaurot only sparsely populated, the quiet has become nigh-uncomfortable, not to mention _ boring_. To relieve his restlessness, Hythlodaeus has taken on the endeavor of people-watching the curious shades that pass in and out of the lobby from the comfort of one of the assistance desks.

A voyeur to a perverse fantasy, one might say, but Hythlodaeus had deigned not to see it in this fashion. No, instead, it was a glimpse into a sad, broken psyche, of a man too desperate to let go of the ghosts that haunted him.

He supposed he was one of these ghosts, but it didn’t feel like much of an honor. Those vague tendrils of personality on the edge of an artificial consciousness-- no, it was no honor at all. Nor did he feel that he held any right to hold contempt against Hades for doing this: who was he to climb the hill of moral superiority when he couldn’t guarantee he would have done anything different if their roles had been reversed?

It was a pointless thought to entertain, but there was little other entertainment for a shade in this broken amusement park.

Hythlodaeus had no soul, not like this, yet he still had sentience that the other aetheric Amaurotines did not. It was a peculiar thing, but one he did not dwell on; if he did, he figured he would twist his way into this meager existence fizzling out, and he owed it to an old friend to see this stage play to the end.

Fittingly, Hades had ever been one for fine arts, he mused. A guilty pleasure, a singular indulgence in that oppressive life as a member of the Convocation. Amusement tugged at his lips at the memory - he grasped at it before it could fade too quickly - of watching Hades and Them get into a squabble over some inane difference of opinion. The three of them had gone to watch a play in one of those rare lulls where none of them were busy, if only for an evening. Inevitably, predictably, and over a bottle of wine in Hythlodaeus’s apartment, the two of them had gotten in an argument. Hythlodaeus could not claim innocence in having started the spat, but he felt wholly without remorse for it - the two of them had always enjoyed debating each other more than they were willing to admit, and it was even more entertaining as an outsider.

Perhaps it would have been a reasonable assumption that the bickering had soured their evening, but Hythlodaeus had not missed the amused undertones in Hades’s voice, nor the eager spark in his eyes. To remove one’s mask was an act mainly reserved for private - intimate - company, after all, and Hades had always been a recluse when it came to those things. It would be a lie for Hythlodaeus say that he did not miss teasing the man about it.

Of course, They had been no different. Hades may have excelled in his intelligence, but Their unconventional approaches had always matched his wit in a way that left him infuriated and, more often than not, at a disadvantage. Hythlodaeus’s lip curves into a smile at this vague recollection, but he falters mid-thought.

Strange. He cannot remember Their name. 

Whether this was by Hades’s design or his own, who could say. He could remember Their laugh, charming as it had been, and that unique hue of Their soul, but naught else.

Perhaps that was enough. The profound loss that gripped his spirit at the memory was already nigh-unbearable. Call it cowardice, but he did not envy the weight that Hades must be carrying.

Hythlodaeus’s aimless footsteps, as he paces a line behind the counter, come to a sudden halt. He can sense aether - real, living, familiar aether - in the corner of his consciousness, not yet in sight but still approaching. He turns around and concentrates, and sure enough, the hue confirms his suspicions. Angling himself so that he has a decent view of the entrance, he picks up one of the reports in front of him and busies himself pretending to review it.

Sure enough, the grand double doors swing open - what comes as a surprise, however, is the appearance of the man who enters. Hythlodaeus squints to make sure he hasn’t made some kind of mistake, but no - that soft gold hue has always belonged to Hades and none else. Yet, donned with his Convocation robes and mask, he fits right into the Amaurot of old. His appearances thus far in the city have been in his modern mortal garb, suppressing his presence to avoid confrontation with any of the shades. To see him suddenly change his mind is odd, to say the least, but if he desires to be seen _ now _\- then who is Hythlodaeus to refuse him that indulgence?

Hades’s movements seem rather without purpose as he stops in the entrance of the lobby, looking around carefully at the room’s sparse occupants. When he sees Hythlodaeus, however, he hastens over; accordingly, Hythlodaeus sets down his papers and pretends he’s only just noticed Hades’s entrance.

“Why, the _ Most Honorable Emet-Selch, _ gracing me with his presence? You must be busy. I’m flattered you would take the time to pay me a visit.” Hythlodaeus smiles, but finds himself grateful for the mask covering his eyes; without it, this façade would crumble like ash. “To what do I owe the honors, my dear friend? A request, no doubt.”

He forces a small laugh in spite of himself and, as expected, Hades simply purses his lips at the teasing. It’s a reaction befitting the younger man he used to be, despite all his current burdens, and Hythlodaeus feels a pang of bittersweet nostalgia in his chest.

Those had been good days. They were all fools to have languished in the assumption that it would last an eternity.

“You never tire of the teasing, do you, Hythlodaeus?” An overly-pained melodramatic sigh punctuates his words - despite which, amusement still plays visibly on his lips. “Remind me to lodge a complaint with the Bureau someday about all this insubordination. You could at least pretend you respect your superiors.”

“Yes, yes, and you have the position because _ I _ had the good grace to pass it up first.” The smile on Hythlodaeus’s face turns downright catty as he watches how Hades stiffens at the jab. _ Like old times, _ he thinks fondly.

“For the best, no doubt. Seriously,” he sighs again, “you wouldn’t last a day with our _ sweet _ bore Elidibus nagging you about etiquette. You’re already enough of a handful for me and the rest of the Bureau.”

Hythlodaeus’s lips quirk in amusement at Hades’s whining. “Please, they’re used to it, I assure you. I am a rather charming superior, if you were unaware. Why, so charming that the Architect himself seems smitten by my company!”

“_You _ are horrible."

The outright dismissal makes Hythlodaeus burst out laughing, attracting the attention of a few straggler shades who quickly scurry off back to their tasks. Hades’s frown deepens, but Hythlodaeus has known the man long enough to be able to tell he’s amused, too. There’s something else present in his voice, though; beyond the obvious exhaustion, the faintest hint of wistful nostalgia shines through. Hythlodaeus examines him for a moment, voice softening when he speaks again.

“I can’t imagine you’ve come here just to chat, as interested as I am in your Convocation gossip.” He smiles kindly, and were they still truly in Amaurot, perhaps Hades would have made an indignant rebuke coupled with an exasperated huff; instead, he silently tenses. Pretending that the reaction went unobserved, Hythlodaeus casually leans his arms across the counter. “What do you need help with?”

“As unfortunate as it is, you are correct.” Hades sighs again, gesturing a hand vaguely to punctuate his disdain. “My job does not deign me worthy of enough free time for luxury visits - if it had, I would be napping instead of here.”

“You wound me,” Hythlodaeus snickers. “But perhaps I ought to change your title to the _ Most Predictable Emet-Selch_. Much more fitting, in my oh-so-humble opinion.”

Hades ignores his quip, but the corner of his mouth still quirks in amusement. “Then be further humbled that I’ve come to _ you _for advice, my dear friend.”

Hythlodaeus gives a playful smirk. “Somewhere private?”

“As usual.”

Reaching into a drawer, Hythlodaeus pulls out a small sign of absence and places it on the counter in front of him as he loops around through a door a few steps away. Rejoined with Hades on the opposite side of the counter, he leads him deeper into the building towards his own office on one of the higher floors.

As the doors close behind them, Hythlodaeus lets out a breath as he pulls off his hood and places his mask on the edge of his desk, running a hand casually through his hair to loosen what’s still caught under his robe. Stealing a glance at Hades, he notes that he’s remained proper for reasons he can only guess at, and decides not to prod him for it. 

“Tea?” Hythlodaeus offers as he leans back against the desk. He watches Hades stalk across the room to claim his regular chair - the one with the softest cushions and deepest lean, of course.

“No, thank you. My taste buds would be thankful to avoid whatever…” He gestures a hand vaguely, “_alchemical concoction _you’re drinking this week.”

Hythlodaeus lets out a small huff of laughter, grinning at the tease. Oh, yes, he’s missed Hades very much indeed.

“Fine, fine. In that case, my dear, busy friend, what did you need advice on? Not your inferior tea preferences, it seems.”

Hades opens his mouth, then closes it as he looks down at some indeterminate point towards the floor. The room is quiet, for a moment, filled only by the gentle ticking of the clock on the wall, and Hythlodaeus is content to give Hades all the time he needs. Eventually, he leans forward in his chair, carding his fingers but still looking downwards.

“Do you believe that I…_ we, _ are making the right choice?”

The question does not surprise Hythlodaeus and, while he may have been privy at the time to more information than the average Amaurotine regarding the Convocation’s plans to summon Zodiark, he is well aware that this is simultaneously a discussion about something else. As such, he chooses his words with a certain care - enough not to give away that he is anything more than a lingering ghost.

“Yes,” he says simply. “You are making the only choice you have, after all, and you make it with Amaurot in mind.”

“_ They _ didn’t seem to think so,” he murmurs, exhaustion heavy in his voice, and Hythlodaeus gives him a pitying look.

“Dissent is everywhere. Strong opinions will always be met with resistance of equal power. You clash, and one inevitably comes out on top.” He shrugs. “That’s simply how society makes progress.”

While Hades mulls over his words, Hythlodaeus takes the pause to stand up straight. Quietly, he paces to the large window behind his desk, basking in the cyan glint of the sea that engulfs the metropolis that was once his home. 

“Progress,” Hades finally echoes, “is not what Amaurot needs. It needs _ stability. _ It needs…” He brings his hands up as he trails off, removing his mask for a moment to rub his face. After a pause, he seems unwilling to continue.

“If that is your truth, then you must fight for it. And I do not envy the individual who has to face _ your _stubborn streak.” Hythlodaeus smiles, but the playful note dies as he continues. “But change will always come, some way, somehow. That is what our calamity is, is it not? A change deep within, and one that Zodiark may fix, but he cannot reverse our experiences. The same is true of everything.”

The statement falls openly, and Hades does not respond to it - nor had Hythlodaeus expected him to. Instead, he hears the telltale creak of old wood behind him as Hades stands from his seat. 

“...Thank you for your time, Hythlodaeus. Regretfully,” he sighs, “I have work to do, and thus I must depart. Good night.”

Hythlodaeus turns around at the sound of boots against the cool marble floor, mulling over the conversation for a moment.

“Hades,” he calls one last time. His old friend stops in front of the door, head tilted slightly to indicate his attention but face wholly out of sight.

“Even if things do not work out as planned… know that none of us would hold it against you, or any of the Convocation. You have faced the impossible and you have done your best - for _ us. _ We could not have asked for anything more.”

Hythlodaeus closes his eyes at the silence that follows, clasping his hands in front of his waist patiently as he waits for a response.

“...Good night, Hythlodaeus.”

Hythlodaeus opens his eyes again, smiling gently as he turns to the window once more. 

“Rest well, Hades.”

As Hythlodaeus peers back into the eternal night hanging over Amaurot, the door silently closes behind Emet-Selch’s back.

**Author's Note:**

> I find it rude when strangers comment criticism (constructive or not) unprompted, so please don't! I write fics for my own entertainment. Other comments are greatly appreciated, however.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
